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It isn’t over.
Don’t you dare believe that voice.
We’ll make it happen.
 Jul 2019 Vaishali
Evangeline
Demonic you with mischief in your bones,
Sacred the pyres in which you were born,
Fire and brimstone
And chaos is your blood.

In Lilim you wrote
In a black book of ashes,
To torture the souls
As you destroy your own
Unraveling secrets and pain in the process,
Mitigating it lightly, then
Swimming with the dark.

Oh, Demon,
A promise I made you
A century ago.

Oh, Daughter of Lilith,
All the wars in your eyes
And battlefields in your blood
Made you into a demon
Much better and strong.

Oh, Child,
Your destiny is to serve Beelzebub,
The Prince of all Demons,
His kingdom, his laws,
And it's hard to survive with the Devil in tow,
But you, Little Hellion,
Will cut his wings off.

So go,
Give them hell, Kid,
'Cause there they belong.
Their sins feed the fires as flesh turn to smoke,
And screams turn to ashes
As you torture them all.

In the pyres of Hell,
Little Hellion,
Be strong.
Inspired by the common phrase: "Give 'em hell, kid"
 Jul 2019 Vaishali
adlibitum
Sometimes, I blame the stars
I ponder the possibility of their alignment being so twisted on the day I was born
Searching for an explanation

Sometimes, I blame my parents
Perhaps the concept of never being good enough, of which they poisoned my brain with, was not just a concept but in fact the truth all along

Sometimes, I blame my teachers
I consider the reinforcement of said concept being pushed down my throat during my years in education
Never good enough to succeed
Never good enough to be loved

Sometimes, I blame God
No, I’m not religious, but the desperation to know the unknown consumes my entire being until I am pushed towards yet another unknown

Sometimes, I blame society
For worshipping such unattainable standards of beauty that one forgets the true meaning of the word
What does it mean to be beautiful?
What does it mean to be loved?

I never blame myself.
Because I know that is where the answer lies and it terrifies me.
06:12
 Jun 2019 Vaishali
Sylvia Plath
"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"
 Jun 2019 Vaishali
Chris
Congrats
 Jun 2019 Vaishali
Chris
"You won" he said.
as he slapped a label on my back
Your story's been read
then he left me with the pack

I guess I won
the prize is shame;
a forgotten name,
a lifetime of pain.

At least something's been gained
another award put in the stash
My medallion of empty gold
to help soften my headfirst crash
I had wrote the first 4 lines for this one about 5 months before publishing it because I didn't know where to go and gave up on it. Enjoy.
मौजो से भिड़े  हो ,
पतवारें बनो तुम,
खुद हीं अब खुद के,
सहारे बनो तुम।


किनारों पे चलना है ,
आसां बहुत पर,
गिर के सम्भलना है,
आसां बहुत पर,
डूबे हो दरिया जो,
मुश्किल हो बचना,
तो खुद हीं बाहों के,
सहारे बनो तुम,
मौजो से भिड़े  हो ,
पतवारें बनो तुम।


जो चंदा बनोगे तो,
तारे भी होंगे,
औरों से चमकोगे,
सितारें भी होंगे,
सूरज सा दिन का जो,
राजा बन चाहो,
तो दिनकर के जैसे,
अंगारे बनो तुम,
मौजो से भिड़े  हो,
पतवारें बनो तुम।


दिवस के राही,
रातों का क्या करना,
दिन  के उजाले में,
तुमको है  चढ़ना,
सूरजमुखी जैसी,
ख़्वाहिश जो तेरी
ऊल्लू सदृष ना,
अन्धियारे बनो तुम,
मौजो  से  भिड़े  हो,
पतवारें बनो तुम।


अभिनय से कुछ भी,
ना हासिल है होता,
अनुनय से  भी कोई,
काबिल क्या होता?
अरिदल को संधि में,
शक्ति तब दिखती,
जब संबल हाथों के,
तीक्ष्ण धारें बनों तुम,
मौजो  से  भिड़े  हो,
पतवारें बनो तुम।


विपदा हो कैसी भी,
वो नर ना हारा,
जिसका निज बाहू हो,
किंचित सहारा ।
श्रम से हीं तो आखिर,
दुर्दिन भी हारा,
जो आलस को काटे,
तलवारें बनो तुम ।
मौजो  से  भिड़े  हो ,
पतवारें बनो तुम।


खुद हीं अब खुद के,
सहारे बनो तुम,
मौजो  से  भिड़े  हो,
पतवारें बनो तुम।


अजय अमिताभ सुमन:
सर्वाधिकार सुरक्षित
Ophelia drowned herself
two weeks ago. Submerged,
head first, into the lake.

Air bubbles formed
at the corners of
her mouth until
one by one
they burst;

She couldn't shout.

The black ink thickens,
as she sinks.

Deeper,

Curls clinging
to her cheeks.

Her frozen pulse quickens,

and the last

beat

of

her

heart

sends ripples that disturb
the silence.

I can hear you now.
This is a poem I wrote as part of my Creative Writing course at university back in 2009/2010.
all my life
i've been preparing faces
to meet the faces that
i've met

friends
family
the man who delivers newspapers
at our doorstep each morning

i've laughed at their silly jokes
as they tossed their heads from side to side
in naive stupidity and their sheer ignorance
a pompous lot, the human race i tell you

i've acknowledged their staunch morals
and tried to make them my own
as they scorned at the girl in a skimpy dress
and chewed on mutton bones gluttonously

all my life, i've been trying hard
to blend in
with people who've shown me
that i don't belong with them

and tonight when i shed gallons of tears
i have only my bed and pillow to share
i've learnt that my sadness
is my very own
just a sad girl writing to survive
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